Endeavour
by AngelisIgniRelucent
Summary: How hard you try to resist him. How strongly you endeavour to be oblivious to the sinuous beauty of his lithe body; the seductive power of his full lipped smile; the cold calculation in his cerulean eyes. DAMONXSTEFAN SLASHY INCEST THEMES


**Hello my lovelies!**

**As always, please review with compliments, criticisms, whatever!**

**disclaimer: I don't own (sadly)**

How hard you try to resist him. How much effort you put into studiously ignoring him when he walks into your room. How strongly you endeavour to be oblivious to the sinuous beauty of his lithe body; the seductive power of his full lipped smile; the cold calculation in his cerulean eyes. You know what he is trying to do – you know that if you give in, the joke will be on you. You know that he is just doing as he always has done, as he always will do. He is trying to _ruin_ you. And you also know that, no matter how hard you try to resist, he will always succeed. He has always been the ultimate sin to you. Your guilty pleasure. A constant reminder of all the guilt and sin which goes with what you are. His beauty a constant reminder of what you forced him to become, only minutes after murdering your own father. You tempted him with tales of how marvellous the strength and speed were…how marvellous the taste of blood on your tongue was. But he refused. He was always stronger minded than you. He did what he wanted. He disobeyed father. He tried to save _her_. _He refused_ _you_. He was always more noble than you too. He would rather have died than become what he is now. But that was a lie. He would have happily followed _her_ anywhere, into anything. His love for her was never compelled – he truly loved her. He loved that monster. He was sick, wrong, evil: an abomination. So how could he possibly be better than you? How could he have _so much_ power over you? So much power that you were helpless, pinned under the gaze of those lazuline eyes.

He stalked forward, like an animal, a hunter. He flashed his gleaming white teeth at you in more of a snarl than a smile. He circles round your bed, eyeing you like you're his prey. You almost expect him to leap on you at this point, and you are filled with self-hatred at the disappointment that fills you when he does not. Your eager body reacts to his presence, to his _scent_. The scent of lust and hatred was an intoxicating one. He reaches out gently, as if to caress your face, then draws his hand back, clenching it violently into a fist. You can see the tendons in his beautifully muscled arms trembling from the effort he is expending, and you can smell the blood he has drawn from his palms, his nails digging into the flesh. The smell of that blood, so dark and dangerous, laced with a sweet torture, almost sends you into a frenzy. You feel the skin around your eyes tighten and the fangs push their way out through your gums. It takes all the power you have not to attack him. Attack him with all the hatred and lust that has built itself up these last fifteen years… But then the scent is gone, the wounds healed, and you sink back into your sheets. You are unable to break eye contact with him, and the look of scorn he gives you – the look of disdain and disgust – causes you to flinch away from him. He walks towards your huddled form and you think he must have practised that walk to make it so smooth, so sensual, until you remember that was always how he had been. He positions his body so that he is kneeling on your bed, towering over your curled up body. You are repulsed at how your body reacts to his sudden proximity – arching upwards towards him, begging for a touch. You feel your heart accelerate as his hand reaches towards your straining body, and you hear yourself whimper as he takes it away.

He laughs, and the sound is beautiful. You want to drink it down; preserve it; hold on to it, but before you can, it is gone. Just like him. And you are left with an empty sensation, tinged with regret. You sit there, unmoving, like the loss of his presence is a shock to your very system. And it is. And you hate it. You replay the last fraction of your existence in your mind. This tiny, seemingly insignificant moment of time that had just elapsed, had been the most precious to you than any other in the last twenty years. That thought sickened you. How could it be that you felt so _alive, _but only in the presence of _him_? How could he have so much power over you? How could it be that just his presence had you tongue-tied, his smile had your insides turn to jelly, his touch made your senses _explode_? Where was the justice in that? _You_ gave him this life; _you_ gave him this power, but it was for your own selfish gains. You couldn't bear the thought of existing without him. Was that why he had such a hold over you? Because you _needed_ him? Did you? Did you really? You try then, you try _so hard_ to imagine a life without him. Untainted by his darkness, his influence. Untouched by his beauty. And your mind draws up a blank. You cannot even begin to imagine a life without him.

No matter how hard you endeavour to do so.

**You know you want to press that lil button ;)**

**Xx Salvat-wh-ore xX**

**Go on…**

**I**

**I**

**V**


End file.
